From me to us

 

At the beginning of the 2019 fall semester, Johan Östling, Anna Nilsson Hammar and I went to a spa and conference center called The Lodge. It is located at Romeleåsen between the cities of Malmö and Lund. The food is good and the view is absolutely stunning. Perhaps not quite as nice as the view of Lake Vättern at Vista Kulle. But pretty close for Scania!

What we did at The Lodge was to spend a day jointly broadening our perspective. What did we want to do together in the future? How were we to build on what we had accomplished? Which challenges and opportunities faced the history of knowledge environment in Lund? Which initiatives were the most important and when should they occur?

At the time, there were many uncertain variables. Neither Anna nor I knew with certainty what our research future would look like. This was in the hands of funding bodies and external experts. Regardless, we wanted to have a plan. Because the research environment we have built together was important for all three of us. It was something we wanted to focus on regardless of our working conditions. We wanted to make it bigger, better, more important.

The day began with us looking back. What had we actually accomplished in the last five years? How had we done that? What did we learn from this? Why did we place such a high value on what we had? This was an extremely enjoyable conversation. Johan described this as “from me to us.” He pointed out that writing a thesis had in many ways been “one single major ego project.” Anna and I recognized ourselves in this description. Because even though we have been part of strong and collegial PhD student communities, the PhD years in many respects concerned realizing an individual dream.

The history of knowledge project was different in nature right from the outset. It was an attempt to introduce and further develop an international field of research no one in Lund had heard of. Initially, it was difficult to impress the people around us. Intellectually, there were many objections – then as now. However, I have learned that research is not just – or perhaps even primarily – an intellectual activity. It’s a social and collective process.

We started in 2014 by building from below. We read and discussed texts and spent time with each other. From an early stage, we also started trying to write together. I remember that after one of our first meetings, Anna and I came to a realization. We were there when it happened! We were not condemned to be new cultural historians three decades after the breakthrough of new cultural history. Instead, we could be the first historians of knowledge. The international research front was still far off in the distance – but we could start to make out its outlines.

I didn’t understand exactly what we did in 2014–2019 while we were doing it. Today, however, I would say that what we jointly created were the conditions for a field to develop and expand. This field consists of a number of interlinked scholarly conversations but has also turned into a local culture at the Department of History in Lund. Many of our colleagues, new and old, have been integrated into this culture. From the outside, I realize that we have been engaged in some form of academic entrepreneurship. I could never have imagined myself doing this.

Now that the time has come to end this blog and this book, I realize that this actually also applies to this project as well. My aim has been, or at least turned into, to try to advance a cultural change within the academy. I want us to talk more about what is difficult and sensitive. I want us to help each other better manage our joint existence as academics. And I want to highlight the human aspects of research and ensure that they are taken into account. My hope is that academic culture will become more generous and less bitter. Obviously, this is not going to magically materialize as a result of a blog or a book. It requires concrete action. But I believe – perhaps naively – in the power of examples and in the importance of individual choices in life. The essentialist way.

Listen, don't listen

 

Academics operate in a world where the rules of the game are not fully known to the players. In addition, they are in a state of constant change. This is because the rule book is what academics in temporary positions of power choose to do with it. Do they choose to reward monographs in Swedish or international peer-reviewed journal articles? Do they count the number of publications or do they read them and try to form their own opinion? Do publication channels play a role or not? Do co-written texts make you more or less competitive?

As if that wasn’t enough, the playing field and the players are constantly changing. In the 1990s, when the Swedish higher education sector was expanded, some historians went straight from receiving their PhD to having a permanent position as senior lecturer. This is completely unthinkable today. In the 1980s, it was unusual for academics to apply for positions at universities other than the one where they received their PhD. Today, academics from elite American universities may apply for a position as associate professor in Kristiansand in Norway. At Swedish universities, foreign leading academics are still rare in the competition. However, the Department of Archaeology, Conservation and History at the University of Oslo has experienced a rapid and dramatic shift in the 2010s. Here, local applicants have not even bothered applying. For the first time in history, a whole generation of Oslo historians have not had a real chance of being employed at their home department.

All these transformations make it difficult to get good advice. Nevertheless, many of us are pretty quick to offer such advice. “Only peer-reviewed articles count,” “edited volumes don’t make you competitive,” “without a second book, you’re nothing,” “no one cares about premodern history.” Nevertheless. As soon as expert opinions in relation to a position are made available, you realize that the rules of the game are hardly set in stone. Above all, you realize that none of the players knows for sure how the rules will be interpreted by the referees. What is crucial for one research funding body is less important for another. A behavior praised by one professor is seen as worthless by another.

At the same time, however, not everything is entirely arbitrary. There are patterns in the noise. If we look at longer time series, this variance tends to level out. Good academics often find their place sooner or later. But out of everyone prepared to offer advice – who should you actually listen to? How does the opinion of a renowned professor hold up against that of a recent associate professor or a successful postdoc? And to what extent can and should you think strategically? Isn’t the research profession primarily based on passion? Doesn’t following your heart result in the best research?

My general principle is to listen to many people but to be careful when it comes to trusting someone blindly. I look upon being absolutely certain how the academic world works as an alarm bell. I simply don’t think anyone knows. How could you when the rules of the game, the playing field, the players and the referees are constantly being replaced?

The group I trust the most, however, are the people a few years ahead of me. Perhaps one may talk about this in terms of a “proximity principle.” Sure, a lot of changes are taking place. Yet, the academy is a slow-moving world. The dynamics of the game do not change overnight. What worked yesterday will probably work tomorrow. However, it’s not at all certain that the recipes for success in the 1990s or 2000s are still effective.

Furthermore, at least in my experience, it’s treacherous to compromise too much with your own ideals and research ambitions. Things typically do not end well when someone tries for a long time to do something purely based on strategic reasons. What brings joy and pleasure must also be included. Otherwise, the sweet taste of victory may turn into ash in your mouth. Carrying out a research project that doesn’t engage you at a deeper level is not all that much fun. On the other hand, academics who can’t imagine doing anything else than what they want to do and who hate all this talk about games, strategy and career typically don’t have all that much fun either. This is a situation where bitterness, whining and envy are close at hand. This is something I try to stay clear of as much as possible.

Hence, I advocate adopting a mixture of strategic thinking and scholarly idealism. What you need to do, as Zlatan Ibrahimović says in his autobiography, is to “listen, don’t listen.” If you are to get anywhere in academia, you must be able to take advice and make some concessions. But you also need to dare to go your own way and shut out the counsel of others. Knowing when to do one thing and when to do the other is an art. Perhaps even one of the most important academic skills.